


a game of gods

by lilantis



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, F/M, Post-Trespasser
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2019-06-07 10:46:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15217496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilantis/pseuds/lilantis
Summary: “They will use you against me.” He blurts out in a rush. The lack of composure is unlike him, it’s startling. His eyes are shut closed, hard, hands clasped behind his back. She can imagine that his knuckles are white with the force of his grip.“What?” she says, softly. The book in her hands returns to its shelf.“They are imprisoned, forced into an unending slumber, yes, but not powerless. Entities like that do not just fade into nonexistence."-a post-trespasser reunion that will likely turn into a self indulgent fic about a possible DA4 idea that popped into my head - the evanuris using lavellan for revenge on solas. cliche? probably. deliciously angsty? definitely.





	1. one

She feels him before anything else. She does not hear the sound of his footsteps, or the soft rhythm of his breath, does not need to turn her head to see him move towards her, she just feels him. The presence that somehow never failed to slow her heartbeat a little and relax her tired bones, growing ever more powerful now. She feels the vibrating magic within him she knew so well, as both a part of her and a part of him. She feels the Veil ripple in response to his presence, bowing before it’s Maker. 

“What are you doing here.” It is not a question. His voice is clipped, strained, trying so desperately to stay steady and detached. It does not waver, but it does not need to. She knows it chips away at his resolve every time he lays eyes upon her, and she is glad. It is the only weapon she has.

She doesn’t look up from what’s consumed her focus; a lock – magical and infinitely complicated, weaved from the fabric of a world no longer existing. She is close to cracking it, though she knows she won’t need to.

“Good to see you too, vhenan.” She chirps, her voice too casual and too light, and she knows he flinches behind her back. 

“It is not safe for you to be here. You should not have come to this place, not ever, not alone.” He has moved closer, his velvet voice reverberating on the stone walls around her, and she finally turns her head to face him. He looks much the same, a perk of never aging, she supposes. She begins to feel a bit conscious of the way her skin has lost its brightness. 

He is wearing a dark green cloak, covering his head, and an ensemble not too far from the armor he wore when he was hers. A wolf pelt over one shoulder of course, a black tunic and belt, footwraps that left his feet bare. She drinks in the sight, eternally grateful he isn’t wearing that ridiculous armor she last saw him in. He looks like him. The waves of power rippling from him is different, of course, but it is not a bad feeling. He keeps the tendrils of humming magic away from her, no matter how desperately they try to reach out. 

“In case you hadn’t heard, I’m not the Inquisitor anymore. I no longer make the rules, I receive an assignment, I complete it. Don’t tell me how to do my job, Solas.” She says, punctuated by a roll of her eyes. She’s turning back to the task at hand when he speaks again, his voice closer this time, just over her shoulder – “You must leave this place, Nymeria. Now.” His voice is urgent, condescending, it is so familiar it makes her heart ache. 

“And when have I ever listened when you’ve told me what to do?” she says with a dismissive wave of her hand, and she feels him tense behind her in frustration, his magic responding in kind. “Are you just going to stand there and lecture me or are you going to open this damned door? This is starting to really get fucking tediou-“

It happens so fast it’s a blur. The door flies open without even a gesture on his part - the only inclination he did anything is the shifting of the Veil - and in a few swift movements, he is standing in front of her, towering over her in a way that makes her tingle just a little, his face inches from hers. In his right hand, clenched into his fist, is a spear the size of her own body, suspended in in mid-air, his magic and strength the only thing that kept it from plunging into her chest as it sprang from the wall on the other side of the room just revealed to them. 

To her credit, she does an admirable job of keeping the shock from showing on her face. Not anticipating any ancient booby-traps was a terrible oversight on her part. But there’s little time to dwell on her recklessness when he’s looking at her like that.

Only inches away from her face, his eyes blaze into hers – the white-blue glow slowly fading back to the blue and purple that she can’t help but see every time she closes her eyes. His chest is heaving, he’s angry and she can feel it in every inflation of his lungs, as his chest grows closer to hers and retreats again. She wants to press herself to him so bad – 

“Finally,” she says with a sigh, ducking under his arm and into the room ahead. A library, with arching ceilings and floating bookshelves that came crashing down. Like many she’d seen before, so big she couldn’t see it’s horizon, reaching out into a force that no longer reaches back. 

He’s practically fuming as he stalks inside behind her, she can feel him starting to unravel – good. 

“You are toying with forces you cannot even begin to comprehend”. His voice is practically a growl. She hopes he can’t see the goose bumps that arise on her arms as it reaches her ears.

She strolls up to the nearest bookshelf and lazily selects a random tome, awkwardly holding back an undignified cough from the dust that rises up into her face. She wonders how old it is and she stop wondering when her head starts to spin with the possibilities.

“As if I’ve ever understood the forces I toy with. I toyed with you for years, didn’t I?” she says with a smirk that she cannot contain.

“You do not understand. For your own safety, please, leave this place – halt your search.” His voice is softer, but still strained. He is so exhausted, she can see it in the hunch of his broad shoulders and the lines of his face. she wants to ask if he’s been taking care of himself. She doesn’t.

“You say I do not understand, yet you refuse to explain.” She says, her voice clipped. “I have no reason to trust you, for all I know, you’re pleading with me to leave because the exact answer I seek is somewhere in this room. You don’t have the best track record when it comes to honesty, vhen-“

“They will use you against me.” He blurts out in a rush. The lack of composure is unlike him, it’s startling. His eyes are shut closed, hard, hands clasped behind his back. She can imagine that his knuckles are white with the force of his grip.

“What?” she says, softly. The book in her hands returns to its shelf.

“They are imprisoned, forced into an unending slumber, yes, but not powerless. Entities like that do not just fade into nonexistence. They can reach and whisper across the Veil just as I have for milennia, and there yet remains plenty still loyal to their ancient masters. They have watched and waited thousands of years for revenge. If they discover their prison warden has a mortal heart, they will not hesitate to tear you to pieces, slowly and agonizingly, to make me pay.” 

She is quiet for a few moments. Persecution at the hands of ancient Gods isn’t exactly something she wants to invite into her world, but she doesn’t have much of a choice anymore. She hasn’t had a choice since she left the boundaries of her Clan’s camp. She has a world to save, and she doesn’t believe in Gods, anyway.

“I’ve defeated one God and seduced another, I think I’ll take my chances –“, she is turning back to walk deeper into the library when a shadow passes over one of the rectangles of sun left on the ornate marble floor through the ornate window above her head. Shaped like an elf, and moving with frightening speed.

She doesn’t know if she’s ever seen such terror in his eyes as he looks at her. It does not bode well.

“Come with me, and I will provide you the answers you seek.”

“Give me a single reason to trust you, and don’t you dare lie to me.”

“Because you will never be able stop me if you’re dead.”

A door slams somewhere in the temple behind them and Solas gives up on reasoning with her. His eyes glow for but a moment, and her world fades to black. She wakes up only seconds later to him scooping her up into his arms. She’s shocked, at first, he is so resolute at keeping his distance from her, but she slides into his embrace like she was made to be there. She can tell the abrupt contact after three long years is affecting him too, considering how he practically drops her at first. It only takes a second for him to recover, the resignation and determination on his face is visible, and then he’s sprinting through the twisting halls of the temple, cloaked in a barrier of silence and oversight. Her head rings, just a bit.

“You did that just to be a dick, you knew I was going to come with you.” She says, groggily.

“Perhaps.” There is the smallest hint of a smirk at the corner of his lips, and it takes all of her willpower not to kiss him.

“Glad to see Godhood hasn’t made you any less of a cocky asshole.” 

His smirk widens, just a bit.

Gods, she missed him.


	2. two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and the angst begins!!!! >:)

They are quickly through an eluvian and safely secured on the other side, the mirror locked behind them without hesitation. He quickly releases her from his arms, a little too quickly, if she’s being honest, because things become extremely awkward after that.

She finds herself standing in a small room. A bed rests in one corner, complete with crumpled sheets and too many pillows, resting against a wall of tall, arched windows. It is black outside, and the windows reveal nothing of their location. How convenient, she thinks.

The wall next to the windows is lined with bookshelves, filled to bursting with books. Some look ancient, literally, while others look like they might actually be from within this age. Most have bookmarks in the form of odd scraps of different colored papers sticking out, disrupting the whole scene. Further in lies a desk littered with papers and odds and ends. She glances at them, fleetingly, but isn’t adept enough at his ancient Elvehn to deduce their meaning with a single look. He knows it, and it annoys her, but she pushes it down. The quiet chaos of the room is so him she almost laughs.

“One of your safehouses? I’m surprised you actually brought me here.” She wonders.

His lips quirk upwards at the corner, ever so slightly, “A decision I suspect I will come to regret.”

She chuckles, and watches as his shoulders tense and then relax at the sound. She wanders over to the bookshelf, dragging her fingers along the spines absentmindedly.

“I’ve gotten quite good at elvhen. I think you’d be proud.”

“Extremely proud, and perhaps in the market for a new dead language to use for correspondence in case a certain, pesky Inquisitor has become able to decode my missives.” He’s moved closer to her. Close enough to touch.

“Me? Intercept and translate your secret correspondence? Wherever would you get that idea?” she coos with a hand over her chest, feigning affront with a devious smile.

The way she turns her body must’ve made him notice her arm, or lack thereof, because the soft smile slides right off his face. He is staring, rather rudely, and she realizes the last time he saw it was when he took the Anchor.

“I… I knew the Anchor was out of control but I did not anticipate it’s removal would… Does it trouble you?” He reaches for what’s left of her arm but draws his hand back.

“Of course it troubles me, Solas.” She chides with a soft shake of her head. The motion causes the loose bun her hair had been contained in to come loose, her recently cut hair falling just past her chin. He pauses again at the sight. This time, when he reaches out, he lets himself run a few fingers through the strands that fall around her face.

“Exhibit A. I couldn’t braid or tie with one hand. This was the solution.” She feels shy, exposed for some reason, as if he hasn’t seen her at her worst a million times by now. She can feel the heat rising on her cheeks and prays the lighting is dim enough to conceal it.

“It suits you.” Is all he says. 

The silence that follows is heavy, but not as uncomfortable as she thought it might be, to see him again, like this. It is much too easy to slip back into what they were. If she squints a little she can almost forget the truth weighing on their shoulders and pretend they are in the library at Skyhold, where her hair is longer and her smile brighter, and his presence doesn’t hum with eight thousand years worth of power and pain.

“You promised me answers.” She says, softly as to not break whatever rests in the air between them.

“Indeed.”

“I think you’re going to lie to me,” her fingers graze his chest but she does not meet his eyes. 

“I never-“ 

“How old are you?” she interrupts, eyes finally darting up to meet his.

His eyes widen a little in surprise, the corners of his mouth turn up slightly. “There are a million things I could tell you, questions your people have wondered for millennia, and the first question you chose is my age?” 

“You’re being evasive, just like I said you’d be.”

“Very old.”

“Solas.”

“Around 7,400. You cease counting after a few millenia.” He finally acquiesces, looking down at her, a funny look in his eyes, like he’s holding his breath for how she’ll react.

A soft “hmph” is all he receives. He’s not sure whether that’s good or bad. 

“You and Mythal.” She’s fiddling with the fabric of his shirt and can’t believe he’s tolerating it.

“You are going to have to be more specific than that.”

“You were lovers, weren’t you?”

“I do not see how that is relevant.” 

“I’m curious, that’s how its relevant.”

“Fine. Yes. For a time.”

“Did you have a family?”

“No.”

“What do you mean, no? Everyone has a family.”

His reluctance is puzzling, but he begins to speak. “I… originated as a spirit.”

“What?” He almost flinches at her raised voice, and his cheeks seem to be a bit redder than they were a few seconds ago, but maybe she’s imagining it. “Like Cole? Wait – a spirit of what?”

She answers her own question a moment later. “Solas… Pride.” Her face brightens in realization, before falling again, “Pride?”.

“Interchangeable with wisdom, two sides of the same coin, without the Veil to cause any sort of pollution.”

“How does it work? Did…” her face twists a little, “did you take an existing body, like Cole?”

“No. Without the Veil there was little resistance between worlds, the physical could be easily manipulated with enough concentrated will, and power. This was a form I created myself.”

The awe on her face is not fabricated. She shouldn’t be surprised really, it all makes sense, but it amazes her, nonetheless.   
She reaches up, too confidently, to touch his jaw, and he stops her. His hand wraps around her wrist and holds her still, the strength of his grip betraying his fragility, it’s taking everything in him to keep her away.

“Your questions are suspiciously personal. I do not see how any of this information could aid you in any way.” 

If she just pushes a little more – She can feel it. The hard set of his jaw, the way his magic reaches for her but doesn’t quite touch her, she’s so close. If she can just distract him for a little bit longer – 

“Maybe I don’t care about the Evanuris, or Arlathan, or the thousands of years in between…” she says finally, finally pressing up against him, trailing her fingertips from his shoulders, to his biceps, down his forearms – he shivers at her touch, gooseflesh on his skin – grasping his hands and pressing them boldly to her waist, before wrapping her own around his neck. She grazes the bottom of his ear in the process, and he practically breaks in two.

“Maybe I only care about you.”

It works.

He’s on her in a second, lips crashing into hers and devouring her like he’s drowning and she’s fresh air. His hands grip her waist and press her against him so hard she can scarcely take a breath, not that she minds it. Returning it in kind, her arms tighten around his neck as he bends her backwards in an attempt to get somehow, someway closer. She is reminded of their first kiss, however many years ago now she doesn’t even know, and her throat feels tight and her eyes feel wet. She kisses him harder, then. It’s a victory, it’s working and he’s melting under her touch just like they planned but – 

She makes the mistake of reaching for his pants, for slipping her fingers under their fabric. It’s too much.

He has her pinned against the bookshelves in a split second, her wrists clamped in his grip held above her head. Not a disagreeable position, but he isn’t touching her, his hands are not roaming, his lips have left hers and she feels their loss viscerally. 

When her eyes meet his, she regrets all of it. The anguish in them hits her like a templar purge, knocking the breath out of her lungs. Wet eyes when he speaks, but no tear falls.

“Why.”

“Vhenan-“

“Why must you insist on doing this to me?” He says, more to himself than to her. His voice is quiet, sharp, terrifying. Quivering on the precipice of something, she doesn’t know what, but she knows she pushed him too far, too fast, and now he’s gone. Retreated back into something and someone she cannot reach.

“You know why, ma lath.” Her voice is quiet, and it is sad.

His eyes close and his jaw is clenched so hard she can see the tendons twitch with his rage.

“You will not manipulate me again.”

He gives her a look that breaks her heart all over again. But then it’s gone, and he is cold, and so is she. When he looks at her again, she knows what is about to happen.

“Solas, don’t you fucking dare-“

But she is already asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> my previous and first ever fic was recieved really well and has me feeling really awesome so here's some more!
> 
> i literaly live and bleed angst so when i thought about the evanuris using lavellan to manipulate and/or get revenge on solas for their imprisonment i had to write it
> 
> right now it's just a nice fluffy reunion fic but it will turn into something darker and deeper as i actually write it.
> 
> comments are so loved and appreciated! im really just starting out too so constructive criticism is also so welcome :)


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